Now Gladys gave him her sunniest smile-- On heroes she ever did dote-- And the proud little beauty felt it her duty To be kind to this young man of note.

But Ben, wise fellow, liked Marjory best; He knew her lips did not curl When mother said sweetly, "Ben does work so neatly-- He is just as good as a girl!"

So he wooed and won this Marjory true, And made her his loving bride, While Gladys she fretted, bemoaned and regretted The goal she had missed by her pride.

To-day Ben is filling a prominent place, A statesman, honest and bold; He frees the opprest, and he helps the distrest, Wins love, which is better than gold.

For the very grandest men you can find In this great world's busy whirl Are men like my farmer--no praise need be warmer Than "he's just as good as a girl."

FOOL'S LUCK.

The Allans o' Airlie they set muckle store On ancestry, acres, and siller, Nor cared to remember the good days of yore, Nor grandfather Allan, the miller-- The honest old miller.

"We're wealthy fowk now, tak' oor place wi' the best,"

Said the heid o' the Allans, one Dougal, A man whom Dame Fortune had royally blest, Of sensible habits, and frugal-- Uncommonly frugal.

"We're honored by great fowk and wise fowk, now min', O' the kirk each Allan's a pillar-- What more could we spier o' a providence kin', Unless 'twere a little more siller-- A little more siller.

"For it's get what ye can, and keep what ye get; Ye'll fin' this an unco' guid motto, We chose it lang syne, and we stick to it yet, Altho' not sae close as we ought to-- Not nearly sae close as we ought to.

"There is ane o' the name is a spendthrift, an a.s.s; The reason tae ye I'll discover: Oor gran'faither marrit an Inverness la.s.s, Juist because he happened to luve her-- Foolish mon, he happened to luve her!

"And the wild Highland strain is still i' the bluid-- 'Tis i' Colin, as sure's you're leeving; Ye ken how it is wi' the whole Highland brood-- 'Tis a' for spending and geeving.

"Gin ye're freen' o' the clan, why, ask what ye may, Ye'll get o' the best, ay, get double; Gin ye're foe o' the clan, weel, juist gang your way If so be ye're no hunting trouble.

"Brither Colin was daft when a lad at the school, Wi' ways and wi' morals improper, Had high flowing notions--poor family fool, His notions ha' made him a pauper.

"What owns he? Bare acres a few, and a house, Yet when we, last year, were expecting Twa relatives, ane puir as ony church mouse, Ane freighted wi' wealth, unreflecting,

"He spat oot graun' like, 'Sin' ye're ower fond o' pelf 'Ye can hae,' said he, 'the rich pairty, But I'll tak' the mon that is puir as mysel'

And gie him a welcome right hearty'-- A welcome right hearty.

"Gosh! I had tae lauch at the f.e.c.kless auld mon As he stood there, his bonnet-strings twirling; Ye'd think he was chief o' a whole Highland clan That marched to the pibroch's mad skirling.

"Ah! hot-headed, high-handed, go as you please, These Highlanders no worth a copper, Wi' their kilt and hose, and their uncovered knees-- A bold dress, and highly improper!

"Oor Colin's the same; hark ye, Davy and Jock, Go no to the hills for your mating; Twa weel dowered la.s.sies o' guid lowland stock, 'Tis for such I'd hae ye both waiting.

"Ho! it's get what ye can, and keep what ye get,-- What is it ye whisper amang ye?

What! oor rich uncle's deid--weel, weel, dinna fret, Ah'm certain that he wouldna wrang me.

"He promised to leave everything he possest-- Before witness promised it fairly-- To the most deserving, the n.o.blest and best O' a' the Allans o' Airlie.

"Ye ken I'm the mon. Here's the lawyer at hand, (I'm richer a'ready and prooder) Hark ye! 'Give and bequeath my gowd and my land'-- Mr. Grant, I pray ye, speak looder.

"I'll buy me the laird's castle doon by the park-- Oh, me! but I'll step aboot rarely.

'To my nephew, Colin'--it canna' be--hark!

'To the grandest Allan o' Airlie.'

"To Colin! I'd ficht, but I've no got the pluck, I'm auld, and I'm broken, I tell ye; I ca'd him a fool--he has had a fool's luck, And noo he can buy me and sell me.

"Now hearken ye, lads, frae the morn till the nicht It pays best tae act quite sincerely; Get what ye can--aweel, the motto's a'richt, But some things are gotten too dearly.

Ay, some things are gotten too dearly.

"I'm thinkin' o' gran'faither's Inverness wife, Nor cattle nor siller she brought him, Juist a hairt fu' o' luve--some queer views o' life-- How runs that auld ballad she taught him?

_"I've a lowly cot and a wide open door, Neither old nor young need pa.s.s by, sir; A piece of red gold for the brother that's poor-- Ho, a rich, happy man am I, sir!"_

"Aweel! there be lessons ye'll no learn in school, It tak's my breath away fairly-- The ne'er-do-weel Colin, the family fool, And the graundest Allan o' Airlie!"

THE HARBOR LIGHTS OF HOME.

J. Thomas Gordon left home one day, Left home for good and all-- A boy has a right to have his own way When he's nearly six foot tall; At least, this is what J. Thomas thought, And in his own young eyes There were very few people quite so good, And fewer still quite so wise.

What! tie as clever a lad as he Down to commonplace toil?

Make J. Thomas Gordon a farmer lad, A simple son of the soil?

Not if he knew it--'twould be a sin; He wished to rise and soar.

For men like himself who would do and dare Dame Fortune had much in store.

The world was in need of brains and brawn, J. Thomas said modestly, The clever young man was in great demand-- They would see what they would see.

He would make his mark in the busy world, Some day the daily press Would herald the glad news forth to the throng, J. Thomas is a SUCCESS.

Then would the doubters and sceptics all Say, with regret sincere, "To think that we gave his hopes and his aims But an unbelieving sneer!"

As for him, he would kiss his mother, And give her wealth galore, Shake the hand of his father--maybe-- Then back to the world once more.

With big ambition and high conceit Was young J. Thomas filled; The warning of friends and their arguments His eloquence quickly stilled.

"You may go," said the irate father, "I'll not urge you to stay; You will learn your lesson, you headstrong fool, Be glad to come back some day."

So J. Thomas Gordon left the farm, As boys have done before, And his mother began to count the hours Till he would be home once more.

The father wearied as time went on-- Missed the boy from his side; But all through the years the fond mother kept Her love, her hope, and her pride.

With a mother's beautiful faith, she said: "I know my boy will come So wealthy, so honored, n.o.ble and great, Proudly come marching home."

And ever she looked at eventide Into the glowing west For the dust of the carriage bringing her The one that she loved the best.

Ah! how she longed to look on his face, Her stalwart lad and true, With his sunburned cheek, and his ruddy hair, And his eyes so bright and blue.

To those who said 'twas cruel of him Never a line to send, She had but one answer, with eyes ashine: "It will all come right in the end; He's busy making a name and place, And I must patient be Till this clever, ambitious lad of mine Finds time to come back to me."

Important and wealthy and famous, Honored and wise and great!